


you know what to say (you know what i said)

by BlackVultures



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Adam Noshimuri: Personal Shrink, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Episode Tag, F/M, First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/pseuds/BlackVultures
Summary: Or at least that’s what you tell yourself, the voice in Danny’s head—which now sounds disturbingly like Steve—says knowingly, almost snidely. Maybe you just give up too easily.“I put up with you,” Danny shoots back, fully aware that he’s talking to himself and the egg might finally be cracking, so to speak.Yeah, but you love me, Not Steve points out, and oh.Oh no.(Coda to 4.19.)





	you know what to say (you know what i said)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Did you all love last week's episode as much as I did? SO MANY FEELS! fdsjklfjdlsjfklds I can't say enough about it. There was SO MUCH that was awesome about it that I wasn't able to include everything in here, but I wanted to write something and I poked around in Danny's head for a while. It was fun! I really hope you enjoy the results. :D
> 
> The title is from "Revelations" by Audioslave.
> 
> (This work is a backdated repost from my old Archive account!)

Danny realizes he’s screwed while he’s in the shower, trying to wash off the residual grime from the parking garage explosion the day before. How does he know he’s screwed, you might ask?

Well, Danny likes to think he’s a pretty self-aware guy, and what he told Steve while they were crawling toward the air shaft wasn’t the slightest bit exaggerated. He  _does_  have unencouraged doomsday visions of nearly every part of his life and usually they come true.

Rachel had been a disaster waiting to happen, and Danny really  _had_  envisioned her handing him divorce papers on the day they got married. He let it happen anyway, because he loved her and he wanted to be with her and Williams men do  _not_  get cold feet.

They had Grace, and for a while Danny felt like the happiest man on the goddamn planet—he had been wrong, they could make it work. And Rachel yanked the metaphorical rug out from under his feet and that little voice in his head whispered  _told you so, dipshit._

He wouldn’t trade those nine years for anything—because he got Grace out of it, the best thing that ever happened to him—but it still hurt like hell. He’d only poured salt—or in keeping with yesterday’s theme, industrial grade peroxide—in his own wounds by falling back in bed with her and almost running back to New Jersey. Steve, in his own unknowing and idiotic-enough-to-give-Danny-a-fucking- _ulcer_  way, had spared him even more embarrassment and pain by getting arrested. That was a fine example of how crazy Danny’s life had become.

Then, there was Gabby.

He’d let himself hope that she would be different, had gone so far as introducing her to Grace—Danny hadn’t done that with anyone he’d dated since the divorce. He’d been equal parts thrilled and terrified when the two ladies in his life got along, knowing that he’d uncorked a bottle. When—not  _if_ , his cynical mind insisted—the relationship ended, it would be just as hard on his daughter as it was on him.

Danny had let Gabby go because he was aware that he was holding her back from the thing she loved the most—her career. He had recalled how he had felt when Rachel had given him a similar ultimatum— _your job or me, Daniel_ —and spared them both heartbreak further down the road.

And despite what he told Steve about giving it a better shot, he knows that eventually the quick-witted and beautiful Amber Vitale will pick something or somebody else over him.

For Rachel it was money, for Gabby it was work—for Amber it could be a fucking leprechaun driving a VW, but it’ll happen.

_Or at least that’s what you tell yourself_ , the voice in Danny’s head—which now sounds disturbingly like Steve—says knowingly, almost snidely.  _Maybe you just give up too easily._

“I put up with you,” Danny shoots back, fully aware that he’s talking to himself and the egg might finally be cracking, so to speak.

_Yeah, but you love me_ , Not Steve points out, and oh.

Oh  _no_.

 

~***~

 

Danny rinses off and gets dressed as quickly as he can, deliberately maintaining radio silence in his brain after that little revelation. He does what he can with his hair—keeping his arms above shoulder height is not a thing that’s happening very well—and throws on an old Devils T-shirt and a pair of jeans, deciding he isn’t out to impress anybody.

The pain near his hip has gone from a dull ache to an unpleasant throb, and Danny’s reaching for one of the pill bottles on the nightstand when he finds a note from Amber. She wasn’t there when he woke up, but drug-muddled snippets of the night before are coming back—he recalls her offering to stay the night and then drop Grace off at school in the morning.

That’s what the note says, along with a smiley-faced request that Danny call when he’s up for it. A vague sense of disappointment fills him, but he pushes it aside—what with the Freudian unravelling he pulled on himself in the john, the last thing he needed to see was,  _I love you_. It’s around eleven-thirty, though, so he figures he should call or she might start to worry.

Danny’s phone was smashed in the collapse, so he drags himself out to the kitchen and grabs the landline.

She answers on the second ring. “Is that you, Danny?”

He can’t help smiling at the sound of her voice, even though it makes his face hurt. “Yeah, it’s me. Uh, thanks for taking Gracie to school?”

“No problem—she’s a sweetheart.” Amber’s tone turns teasing… but there’s a note of something else in it, too. “You don’t remember talking about that, do you?”

“I don’t, not really.” Danny rubs the back of his neck. “Look, did I say anything stupid, or do anything, you know… inappropriate? Painkillers make me mouthier than usual.”

She pauses a second too long. “No, nothing like that. How do you feel?”

“Sort of like a building fell on me,” Danny says wryly, his heart falling down to his feet when her laugh comes out forced. He hunches forward in the chair. “Amber, what did I do? I can tell there was something.”

“Danny…” She trails off, and then takes in a breath, steeling herself. “You were in and out all night—if you moved the wrong way, you woke up. And every time, you looked around like you didn’t know where you were… and you said Steve’s name.”

Danny lets his head thud back against the wall. “Amber—”

“It’s okay. I get that you guys are partners, that you have a close relationship—I mean, you talk about him all the time—but I don’t think I really understood until I met him yesterday. The way you were asking for him, Danny… it wasn’t like you wanted your friend with you. It was the way I thought you’d be asking for me.”

“I… don’t know what to say,” Danny admits. He knows that sorry won’t begin to make up for it, knows that trying to cover his ass will just hurt her worse.

Amber seems to consider her response for a long time.

“Say you’ll do something about it,” is what finally comes over the line, and then she’s gone.

 

~***~

 

And  _that’s_  how Danny winds up taking a cab across town to have lunch with Adam Noshimuri.

Steve still has the Camaro, and calling Chin or Kono for a ride isn’t an option, so a taxi it is. Luckily the ones in Hawaii are nothing like what he’d find in Newark, so he’s not afraid he’ll get sepsis from slumping down in the backseat. If the cabbie knows who he is he doesn’t let on, and Danny leaves him a nice tip as a thank-you for the peace.

The restaurant is a sandwich joint that Adam suggested, and as soon as he steps through the door Danny likes the casual atmosphere and the long grill that takes up one side of the room. The air smells like fried cheese and fresh bread. He spots Adam immediately—he’s wearing a suit with the tie undone and the jacket draped over the back of his chair.

Adam raises an eyebrow at his hysteria. “What’s funny?”

“Never thought I’d see you with a paper napkin tucked into your collar, that’s all,” Danny wheezes, gingerly taking a seat. Pain flares up his side, but it’s nothing he can’t grit his teeth against. There’s an iced tea waiting at his place and he sips it gratefully. “Seems a little out of character.”

“So does you asking me for a clandestine meeting,” Adam says, and Danny has to give him that one. “I already ordered, though.”

“Thanks.” Okay, so they’ve never been besties, but Kono moved hell and earth to save the guy and Five-0 had followed her lead. That’s actually the reason Danny’s here and he’s pretty antsy about it, but he asks, “How’d the deposition go?”

“It’s still going—I have to be back in court in an hour.” Adam moves his fork a fraction of an inch so it’s aligned with his knife and looks Danny in the eye. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Danny taps his fingers against his knee and debates how he wants to phrase what he says next. For once in his life, he takes the coward’s way out: “I have this friend.” He clears his throat, knows that if he doesn’t start now he won’t. “I, uh, have this friend, and he kind of just figured out that there’s someone he wants to be more than friends with, somebody he’s known for a long time but hasn’t really thought about that way. He thinks of the worst thing first, always, and it keeps him from getting what he wants. Now, this friend, knows that if he admits his feelings and they’re actually returned—which is one hell of a long shot—it’s going to change everything about both their lives, and the lives of the people around them. It has the potential to be messy, and catastrophic, and if he’s wrong or he screws it up he’s pretty sure—” his voice  _does not_ crack, it doesn’t “—he won’t be able to live with himself. And I was just thinking that, you know, because of everything that’s happened with you and Kono, you might have some insight for… my friend.”

When Adam sits back in his chair, Danny thinks it’s because he’s baffled by the bullshit that just got hurled his way. Then he notices the waitress and the baskets she’s putting on the table, which contain grilled turkey, bacon and avocado sandwiches and sides of waffle fries.

They thank her and she leaves, and Danny is reminded by his rumbling stomach that he missed dinner last night and breakfast this morning. He digs in, and uses the excellent flavor of the sandwich to push down the feeling that he just made a huge-ass mistake.

Adam munches thoughtfully on a fry. After he swallows, he says, “When I first met Kono, there was this instant connection between us, despite the circumstances. I knew I had to see her again. We had to keep it a secret at first, of course, but that only made the pull I felt toward her stronger—when I wasn’t with her, I wanted to be, and she made me want to be a better man. She has literally changed my life, but not without me changing with it. Does your friend want to change? To stop envisioning the most horrible outcome and just go for it?”

Danny nods, and realizes he’s even more screwed than he thought he was—that is to say, he’s gone from mega-screwed to ultra-screwed.

He told Steve he loved him yesterday—granted, it didn’t have the connotation that it does now, but he still meant it. When he’d balked about actually saying the words, it wasn’t because he was seeing a bad outcome… it was because the only thing he’d seen was  _Steve_ , dirty and bloody and with an amused, fond light in his eyes. No doomsday scenario, no bad outcome.

What the fuck does  _that_  mean? Danny thinks he might know the answer, and it’s simultaneously the best high and the worst fear.

“And the person your friend would like to change for—what are they like?”

“They’re impulsive and reckless and never think anything through,” Danny says immediately, around a bite of what he’s grudgingly dubbed The Best Sandwich Ever. “But they’re also compassionate, and generous, and always put everyone else first. They love his little girl, and even though they drive him up a wall sometimes, they’re always there.”

“Sounds like a good match. Life’s about balance, but it’s also about challenge. If somebody doesn’t challenge you—even by challenging you to be patient with them—then you can hardly expect things to stay interesting.”

“But what about consequences? I mean, for you and Kono they were literally life or death. Weren’t you afraid of how badly things could go?”

Adam spreads his hands. “Of course I was—you’re a cop, Danny, you know fear is a natural response in a dangerous situation.”

“If you’re not afraid you’re stupid,” Danny agrees.

“Right. But you also know that you have to act, despite your fear, or something even worse could happen. In your friend’s case, if he doesn’t act he might not lose the person he loves, but he’ll never know if they could’ve been something more. Besides, it sounds like they have pretty interesting lives already—what could one more adventure hurt?”

“They do have interesting lives. Insane and explosive lives, but yeah, they’re interesting.” He starts to protest when Adam pays the check but gets waved off, and then they’re standing and shaking hands. “Thanks for the advice—from my friend. And for what it’s worth, buddy, I hope we get to see Kono make an honest man out of you someday.”

“If she doesn’t kill me first, you mean. Hey, it was good seeing you.” Danny moves for the door first, slowly, but pauses when Adam adds, “Oh, and Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Say hello to Steve for me, would you?”

Danny’s ears blaze bright red and he pretends he doesn’t feel it. “… Sure. No problem.” He thinks of something else. “Hey—would you mind giving me a ride?”

 

~***~

 

Danny listens to Adam’s BMW as it roars away from the McGarrett house, noticing that the Phallus Truck is sitting out in the yard but the Camaro and Catherine’s Corvette are gone. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for remembering which fake rock the spare key is under—only Steve would have more than one, convoluted bastard—and lets himself inside.

Danny swore he’d never get sentimental about a house after the split with Rachel, but he’s pretty fond of this place. It was a second home when he was bouncing between shitty apartments and even shittier hotel rooms. He likes coming here, enjoys the holiday parties and the cookouts and the late night football games on the beach. Loves his adopted family, doesn’t know what he’d do without Chin and Kono, Max, Steve… and Cath.

Jesus Christ, Danny hadn’t thought of Catherine while considering the ramifications of a relationship with Steve.  _Smooth move, jackass._

He punches in the alarm code and wanders toward the kitchen, glancing around and feeling like something’s wrong. It takes him a minute to figure out that things he’d grown used to seeing around the house are gone: the boxes of granola cereal on the counter, the seashell candles, the tank tops and skinny jeans hanging on the laundry rack.

“Huh,” he says to nobody.

Curious now, Danny opens the refrigerator. There’s food in it, which means Steve’s been to the store recently… but there isn’t any grapefruit juice or yogurt or mangoes. Those are all things Cath eats that Steve doesn’t, and every time Danny’s gone for a beer in the past few months they’ve been crowding the shelves. He bets that if he went upstairs and looked in the bathroom there wouldn’t be a makeup bag or any of the mysterious toiletry items women use.

So Catherine moved out and Steve never said boo about it. She’s been gone for a while, because Jerry stayed here a couple weeks ago—Danny hasn’t been over after work because he’s been spending so much time with Amber. When he comes to pick Steve up in the mornings the ’vette is always gone, but Danny had assumed that was because Cath left earlier than they did.

His train of thought is cut off when his side throbs angrily. He fishes in his pocket for the pain pills he brought along and grabs a glass of water, then heads out to the lanai.

Danny eases himself into his usual chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. Every muscle aches, his bad knee is starting to twinge, and his fucking face feels like it’s ready to peel away from his skull—all reminders that he was  _trapped in a_   _collapsed building_  at this time yesterday. He downs the pills and tips his head back, knows that if he falls asleep out here he’s probably going to burn and spend the rest of the week looking like a lobster.

He wiggles a little to get comfortable, eyes sliding shut… and a few minutes later, the drugs knock him on his ass.

 

~***~

 

“Hey boss?” Kono says, rapping on Steve’s open office door.

Steve startles awake, because he dozed off at his desk while staring at some paperwork.  _Jesus._  He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, Kono—what’s up?”

She’s got her bag on her shoulder and her car keys in her hand. “I’m gonna take off—figured I’d pick Grace up from school, maybe take her to a movie. Danny’s probably pretty out of it.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Steve stands, feels the patchwork of bruises he has protest the motion. Absently he picks at the stitches in his forehead, stops when he sees Kono’s disapproving look. “What? They itch.”

“Right. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Except for spending most of the night wide awake, plagued by nightmares and the phantom ringing of rebar against metal in his ears. That was  _after_  an awkward attempt to reboot his relationship with Catherine at the sushi place and the mess that followed killing the guy that orchestrated the explosion. Other than that, Steve was sunshine and goddamn rainbows. “Think I might head out too—I’ll swing by Danny’s place, see how he’s doing.”

Kono gives him a funny smile—almost like she knows something he doesn’t—and nods, turning to leave. “Tell him to get better soon. See you tomorrow.”

Steve says goodbye and opens a desk drawer, grabs the new cell phone that Fong brought over to replace the one Danny lost in the collapse. He figures he’ll bring it with him, maybe stop by the store and get—he pauses, berates himself for thinking that Danny needs him to make a grocery run when Amber’s probably done it already. That thought makes a familiar tension squeeze Steve’s heart, even though he knows he should be glad that Danny has somebody to take care of him.

He eases the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the phone, remembers how he’d touched Danny’s cheek with that hand before leaving him to talk to Amber via Skype. He hadn’t been able to watch the open affection on his partner’s face, had felt like he was trapped under a ton of concrete at the sight of it.

But Steve was Steve, and damn it if he didn’t want Danny to be happy.

So he told him to suck it up and go for it with Amber and Danny agreed that he would, if they made it out alive. And they did, because Grover and Cath and HFD’s finest were topside and Steve managed to MacGyver a way out with a pipe and some blasting powder. Before he lit the charge Danny had said he hated him, and Steve had shot back with  _love you too, pal_ —if it didn’t work, at least he had finally said the words aloud.

Then a few minutes later he got to say it  _again_ , and couldn’t help the lurch his heart gave when he managed to pry the same words out of Danny. Steve had only recently accepted that he wanted more than what they had, but if all he ever got was the easy banter and sunny smiles and the occasional hug, he could live with it.

And realistically, he’ll have to.

 

~***~

 

Steve begs off some early beers with Chin and Catherine when he runs into them in the parking lot and drives over to Danny’s place. When he gets there the driveway’s empty and he’s not sure what to make of that—he thought that Amber would be here. Frowning, he parks the Camaro and uses the key on the ring to get inside.

“Danny?” he calls, without the desperation that had laced his voice yesterday. “Danno, you up?”

No response. Steve moves through the house, checks all the rooms, expecting to find Danny passed out in bed or on the couch—worst case scenario, he fell down in the bathroom. There’s a damp towel over the bedroom door, but no Danny. He’s got no cell phone, no car, and presumably he’s taking painkillers—where could he be?

Steve doubles back to the kitchen, worry twisting in his gut. He notices that the landline is sitting on the table, so he picks it up and hits redial. The call goes to a taxi service out of downtown Honolulu; Steve identifies himself and asks if a cab was sent to this address. The woman on the other end of the line tells him a cab was dispatched and it went to a sandwich shop over on Kaheka.

Right after he hangs up, Steve’s cell phone rings. “McGarrett.”

“Hey, Steve—I was hoping I’d reach you.”

Steve’s out of the house and locking Danny’s front door, using his shoulder to press the phone to his ear. “Adam? What’s up?”

“I just got out of court—thought I’d let you know that I had lunch with Danny earlier, and afterward he asked me to give him a ride to your place.”

Steve makes what Danny would call Constipated Face Number Four and pauses halfway into the Camaro’s driver’s seat. “You and Danny had lunch? Is this a… thing?”

“Believe me, I was as surprised as you are,” Adam says. “Look, I’m on my way to a meeting with my lawyer, so I’ve gotta run. Catch you later.”

He hangs up, and Steve stares at the phone for a second before tossing it on the passenger’s seat, decision made. He starts the car, gunning the engine on the way to his house and wondering what the fuck is going on in Danny’s head.

 

~***~

 

As a matter of fact, Danny’s head is currently filled with a buzzing sensation. It’s nice, almost like he’s getting some kind of brain massage from a bunch of little vibrating fingers. It’d be weird to have somebody’s fingers in there, but he feels warm and loose all over and if there actually  _are_ little vibrating fingers in his head then he’s going to leave them be, because this is  _awesome_.

Danny hears the ocean and forces his eyelids up—it reminds him of opening the garage door after a power outage, they’re that heavy. His mouth is dry and tastes like ass, but he doesn’t care and… wait,  _waaait_ , he doesn’t live this close to the water, so why—crap.

He’s at Steve’s house.

Normally this would not be a problem, but Danny’s been shot enough times to know that he’s flying like a kite on pain meds, and what with his latest revelation he’s not sure what’s going to spill out of his mouth if Steve shows up.

And since it’s  _Steve’s_   _house_ , it’s fan-frickin’-inevitable that the giant oaf is going to—

“Danno! There you are!”

Son of a  _bitch_.

“Steve,” Danny says, and he giggles, because that’s one of his favorite things to say. “Steve, Steve, Steve.” He pauses. “My mouth tastes like ass.” Steve’s standing next to his chair now, and Danny has to tilt his head  _way_  back to look at him, he’s so far up there. “Why are you always so far up there?”

Steve chuckles, and his Aneurysm Face fades—that’s one of Danny’s least favorite Steve Faces, so he’s glad it’s gone. “I think you might be further up there than me, buddy.” He crouches down so they’re eye-to-eye. “You had me worried—I went over to your house and you weren’t there. Adam called and told me he brought you here after you guys had lunch.”

Danny blinks. Pats Steve’s face, because he likes his face and it seems like the thing to do. Then he leaves his hand there and Steve lets him. “Sorry. For worrying. Making you worry. I had a good sandwich, though. And Adam got to play therapist.”

“He did?” Steve takes Danny’s hand and extracts him from the chair; Danny goes with it, finds himself enjoying the feel of Steve’s arm around his waist to steady him. “What did you guys talk about?”

But Danny shakes his head. “Can’t tell you. And  _you_ —” here he pokes Steve in the side “—you haven’t been telling me things either.”

“Like what?”

“You didn’t tell me that Catherine moved out.”

Steve pauses as they enter the house and Danny kicks off his sandy shoes. “No, I didn’t tell you that. It seemed like things were going well with you and Amber, and then we went to Cambodia—”

“Exactly! How long was that flight?” Danny’s fuzzy in the memory department right now, but it was  _long_ , and then they didn’t even find the body. He narrows his eyes. “We could’ve used a conversation starter. And what do me and Amber have to do with anything?”

Steve changes the subject and Danny lets him—he’s getting that shifty caged-animal look in his eyes and Danny’s too tired to chase him if he bolts. “Speaking of Amber, how’s that trip to Maui coming?”

Danny snorts. “It’s not. And it won’t be. Ever.”

They’re on the stairs, and Steve stops to look at him. “What? What happened?”

“I screwed up.” Danny’s looking his bare feet and Steve’s booted ones as if they’re suddenly the most interesting things in the world. “Big surprise.” He gestures vaguely forward. “Can we just, uh, keep going… wherever you’re taking me?”

“We’re going to the bathroom—I want to check your wound,” Steve says. They reach the bathroom and he flips on the light with his elbow, easing Danny down to sit on the closed toilet. He opens the medicine cabinet and grabs the first aid kit. “What happened?”

“It’s your fault.”  _Shit, you moron_. “I mean, no. Fuck. Forget I said that.”

“Can’t do that, Danno,” Steve says in an aggravatingly sweet voice, tapping his temple. “Mind like a steel trap.” He crouches down again, puts the kit on the floor and slides his fingers under the hem of Danny’s shirt. “So how’s it my fault?”

Danny feels all wobbly from the drugs; Steve touching that area of his body isn’t helping anything. There’s no way he’s going to attempt to have this conversation now, and yet what comes out of his traitorous mouth is: “I kept saying your name last night.”

Steve’s eyes bug out of his head and the expression’s so unlike him that Danny laughs. “You, uh… what?” He’s looking anywhere but at Danny as he helps him take his shirt off and seems embarrassed. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m changing, Steve,” Danny says, all matter-of-fact, and he giggles again. “Steve, Steve. I thought about you in the shower this morning, too.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, and why does he sound like he’s being strangled? His fingertips graze the edge of the bandage that’s covering Danny’s wound. “I’m gonna take this off now.”

“Didn’t even buy me dinner first.” Danny barely feels it when the adhesive pulls at the skin around the sutures. “Adam bought me lunch. Did I tell you about the sandwich?”

“You did, pal.” Steve leans closer to get a better glimpse of the stitches. “This looks pretty good.” He glances up, blinks when he realizes Danny’s face is about an inch away from his. “Danno?”

“Your eyes,” Danny murmurs, and apparently when he’s high he’s also a sap. “I never noticed all the colors in ‘em before.” He licks his lips, which suddenly feel dry, and doesn’t miss how Steve tracks the movement. “You were right, you know. Yesterday.”

“I’m right all the time,” Steve says, barely above a whisper. He hasn’t moved back, looks like he actually wants to get  _closer_ , and Danny begins to hope. “You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

“About me not being able to live like this forever—never letting myself be happy. The thing is, I think I’ve been looking at it the wrong way this whole time, and it took nearly getting entombed in concrete with you for me to figure it out. This morning. In the shower.” He sucks in a deep breath, remembers Adam’s words about  _one more adventure_. He leans closer, and they’re breathing the same air. “So I’m gonna try something, here, even though it’s probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.”

Steve smiles, sudden and rich and bright.

He grabs Danny’s face with both hands and meets him halfway.


End file.
